


Did I Ever Tell You: Choose Your Own Adventure - Fuck Or Die

by NotYetWritten



Series: Did I Ever Tell You [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Demonic Possession, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYetWritten/pseuds/NotYetWritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one of the possible endings to part one of Did I Ever Tell You.  Hawke falls out of the Fade and Varric cares for her.  I wasn't exactly being clever with the title.  The tags should tell you everything you need to know.  If you're here, you know what you're doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend Aleanbh has been my sounding board for this story...the problem is that we are both very amused by angst and the possibilities for the main story kept getting darker and darker. To avoid hurting people that followed the kinkmeme prompt looking for some Hurt/Comfort and not full-on angst, I've separated the parts that needed different tags. Hope you didn't wander here by mistake.

She awoke to blinding light and cried out in confusion as she sat up in the cot.  All around her there were images of green smoke and spiderlings scurrying away to shadow -- but there were no shadows, only the intense, unmoving glare.

“Hawke,” Varric said as he always did, hands again on her face and neck to reassure her.

His broken nose was smudged with ink, his mouth tight with worry.  His red eyes appeared sunken in, bags so deep they almost looked like bruises.  Maker, it looked as if he had been  _ crying. _

Their eyes met, and she almost unravelled at the seams.

_ She could see.  Maker, she could see and she wished she couldn’t. _

He smiled weakly at her, saying her name once more and trying to position his hands on her chest to avoid pain.

“Varric…” she whispered, barely able to form the words.  “It’s so bright...”

“Daytime already, waffles?” he asked with an even voice.

_ He sounded so calm.  How could he be calm? _

The growing vision was too much to look at.  His face swum in and out of focus as she almost blacked out from the amount of sensations all around her.  She reached a hand up - towards the blighted thing causing the pain - and energy slowed to a halt.  The torch froze solid, along with the sconce, the stone, and the table beneath it.  The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees and the cup next to Varric cracked.

She could muster no humor; it took everything she had to keep herself breathing.

“It hurts,” she said, voice rising in a panic.

“Hawke, you’re safe,” Varric reassured her, quickly getting to his feet.

She could not sense his fear but with her sight returned she could see it as clearly as she could see the cracks in the ceiling and the wooden floor.  He was frightened of her.

“I have to …” she murmured, but she couldn’t remember what she needed to do.  This wasn’t the Fade and yet she needed to return there -- back to where the fear made sense.  Things were distorted and terrifying there.  The Nightmare’s whispers haunted her.  Here?  Here the only thing to fear was  _ her. _  There were only memories and dealing with the time lost and the time gained as well as these confusing feelings for her friend and the confusing way he was reacting to her.

“You’ll lose our bet if you go anywhere,” Varric said, grabbing her shoulders as she started to throw the covers off her.  “And I  _ really _ don’t think this is a good idea.”

“But I can’t…”

“Whatever it is, you can,” he interrupted.  “Deep breaths, Hawke.  There’s nothing to fear here.  Bianca and I are looking out for you.”

She looked down at his hands and for the first time could see all the damage across her body.  Her chest was misshapen from mangled ribs, her arm was twisted and covered in deep scars still oozing blood.  Her thighs were mottled purple and black and a across her belly an ugly scab ran from hip to hip that looked like skin had sloughed off her body.

And she could remember all of it.

_ The biting, the tearing, the scratching; the falls that broke her first rib, the fall that broke the second and the crevice she broke a whole side to squeeze into just to flee the terror that had folded her arm in two. _

She screamed, but Varric quickly covered her mouth with his wide palm, the other hand stroking her hair.  At some point he had climbed onto her and shoved her back against the cot, resting the bulk of his weight on a knee on her chest.

“Hawke, it’s okay,” he murmured.  “I know you’ve got a lot that shit swirling around in your skull but you need to let it go right now.  The Templar is back outside and - trust me - you don’t want to find out how irritated he is.”

She struggled against him, all thought leaving her mind as she fought to get free of the Nightmare and his many tendrils wrapping through her psyche.  But Varric was stronger, and heavier, and she found herself slowly being held close, cradled.  She felt...safe.

And then it soured.

She sunk her teeth into Varric’s fingers, only she hadn’t moved.  She hadn’t wanted to hurt him.

“Andraste’s ass,” he swore, pulling them back and sticking them in his mouth.  “I was just trying to help.”

“ _ Release me,”  _ she heard her voice say - loudly.

She felt herself moving as if pulled by strings.  She reached up and grabbed the earring to the side of his ear and  _ yanked.   _ The look in his face changed almost the same second she realized what was happening - why she wasn’t in control of herself.

The unthinkable had happened.

  
  


She was a mage.

  
  


She was weakened.

  
  


She had just been possessed.

  
  


As the demon drew another breath in to scream and alert the Templar, Varric’s movements changed.  He went from gentle restraint to full blown commitment.  Before she could make a sound, he shoved one of his gloves into her mouth and put the whole of his weight down on her broken ribs.

The pain of it knocked the breath from her.  She wanted to scream herself but she found herself trapped, unable to do anything.  It was just as Anders had described, only now she would be covered in Varric’s blood.

_ Maker, no. _

“You bastard,” he spat, but the demon put her uninjured arm into his gut and knocked him off balance long enough to spit the glove from her mouth.

_ “Don’t want the Templar in here?” _ the demon taunted.  _  “I’ll call him in then, shall I?  This body could use some decorative sunbursts.” _

Varric recovered as the demon, Hawke’s body, scrambled from the bed.  He charged straight into her, knocking her backwards against the wall and knocking the wind from her.

“If you do that I will find some way into the Fade and somehow make it worse for you,” he said, voice low as he tried to grab Bianca from the side table.

The demon was faster, and even though it could barely take a breath, it managed to grab her staff and launch a blast of willpower at him.  He was not knocked over, his natural resistance and her weakened state allowing him to shrug the attack off.

“I’m sorry, Hawke,” she heard him whisper, and he reached to his belt to draw a flask - as DemonHawke tried to regain its breath in the momentary calm.  “- but it’s for your own good.”

Bianca sang and a bolt flew with deadly aim, connecting Hawke’s good shoulder to the stone wall behind her.  The Demon tried to scream - Hawke could feel it - but she had not recovered her breath enough to make more than a whimper.  He kicked the bolt with his leather boot, driving it deeper and sending enough pain up Hawke’s arm to make her vomit.

Head swimming, the Demon looked up at him as he poured the flask’s contents into her mouth.

“I never refuse a beautiful woman a drink,” he said, voice thin with masked pain and brutal concentration.

One palm covered her lips and he pinched her nose with the other, forcing the demon to swallow the sickly sweet liquid.  Hawke recognized it, even if the demon did not: magebane.  She felt her strength draining.

Clever bastard.  Maybe he would live, after all.

An abomination with mana could tear him apart at close quarters - resistance or not.  An abomination without mana would have trouble ever closing the gap to his crossbow.

“What are you?” he asked, crouching in front.  “Rage?  Pride?”

_ “What I am is none of your concern, Dwarf.  Release me.” _

The demon drew strength in for a kick but Varric caught her leg and pushed his thumb into her kneecap to pop it free from her knee.  Hawke wanted to beg for mercy; she had never felt the anyone inflict so much pain with so little effort, but she had no control.

“I’m a businessman,” he assured the demon.  “Sometimes I shoot people, but I’d rather not put more holes in my friend if I don’t have to.”

Hawke could feel the demon reaching deep to the blood in her veins, pulling the last of its strength to fuel a pillar of flame.  Without a staff and years of practice, its aim was dramatically off; it missed Varric by feet and fizzled into smoke.

Without another word, he put another bolt into her injured hand and at the same time covered her mouth to mute the scream.

“Bianca was getting bored,” he said without blinking or flinching.  “I know how these things work.  I can kill Hawke, which dumps you back into the Fade, or I can make you a deal of some kind in exchange for letting my friend go with just a few arrows in her and a dislocated knee.  So, what are your terms?”

Hawke’s stomach sank as he pulled his hand away to allow her to reply.   _ No, Varric.  No good comes from deals with demons. _

The demon spoke through Hawke’s lips, with Hawke’s voice.  She wanted to silence it but she was powerless to influence the deal.  Anders had described Justice’s control before; this was the first she had realized what it meant.

_ “I have been watching her dissipate.  She fades from the Fade as slowly as a dream.  The Fear demon whittled her willpower away and left this husk behind.  She was easy to slip into while she struggled.  Any deal you make will just open her up to future possession.  So let me stay here, and I will see to it that no other demons take her.” _

“No deal,” Varric said.  “I’m a gambling man.  I’d wager that she’d rather I kill her than let you walk around in control and I’m willing to take the chance against future possession.  She just got her first sight of the world after six months in a nightmare.  That’s bound to be a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

_ “She only just returned to you,” _ the demon whispered slowly, licking her lips.   _ “I do not believe you would let her go so easily.  No, Master Tethras.  I think you will deal.” _

“You’re Desire,” Varric realized, eyebrows raised..  “Listen, I knew a girl like you once, so I know the way you think.  No.  I adore Hawke but I already lost her once.  I wrote a lot of letters so I’m pretty much committed to her continuing to be dead.  So - it’s either you leave or I shoot.”

He pushed Bianca against her heart to prove he was serious.

_ “Wait,”  _ the demon pleaded.  Hawke could feel it was backed into a corner even without knowing it.   _ “I will make one last offer.” _

Varric relaxed his grip on the crossbow, letting it drift down to her gut.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Hawke couldn’t tell what thoughts could possibly be running through his head.  His voice was even.  Cheerful, even.  The expression on his face was bemused.  He was hiding emotions well - or he truly didn’t care.

_ “I have spent such a long time alone in the Fade...I have seen the way she looks at you.  I have seen the worlds that coalesce around your words.  I would experience what mortals strive for: Desire fulfilled.  I know you can give me what I seek.” _

The look on Varric’s face was worth more than all the Thaig’s treasure.

“So her options are fuck,” he said slowly.

_ “That is such a crude -” _

“-or die-” he continued.

_ “Master Tethras, are you not a writer?  I do not wish the peasant’s words: I crave the words from your stories.  Passion, love…” _

“Don’t forget intensity.  Ardor.  Devotion.  I know all the words, demon.  But what you’re offering me...  I’ll take you to a new part of the Fade.  I’ll introduce you to a guy who loves spirits.  Heck, I’ll even find you a dead body if that’s your thing.  What I will not do is violate my friend just to satisfy some demon’s boredom.  Go find a brothel and spy on  _ their  _ dreams.  That would sate a whole barrel of desires.”

_ “Then kill me,”  _ the demon said.   _ “If you would rather she die than simply follow your own lust.” _

Hawke waited for the trigger to go off.  She could feel him tense on the bow through the demon’s hold on her.  But the bolt never came.  Bianca did not coil back, did not launch a bolt.  He lifted the crossbow up again.

“You’re a demon,” he said.  “Not really known for keeping your word.  I’d rather kill her now than have her die betrayed.”

_ “Would you truly, Master Tethras?  Do you have so much to lose?” _

Varric was silent.

“Andraste’s ass, I should have taken Tiny up on that offer,” he said with a sigh.  “I’m sorry, Hawke.  I don’t think I can do this.”  He aimed Bianca and closed his eyes.

 

Two things happened very quickly:

Hawke felt the bolt hit, and she also found herself flung back into the Fade.  

 

The pain in her chest was a fear spiderling digging its teeth into her breastbone.  Confused, she tried to throw up a barrier but found she was too weak to continue.  She screamed in frustration because she knew.  She  _ knew _ .  This had all just been another of the Nightmare’s games.  She had never left the Fade.

She would never see Varric again.

_ The Inquisitor wouldn’t take care of him. _

“Varric!” she cried, missing the sound of his crossbow and mid-battle cockiness.  “Varric I need your stupid bow!”

But he wasn’t coming.  Nobody was coming.  She had decided to die a hero’s death, which was really just regular death with a different description.  A hero dies cold and alone, just like everyone else.

The spiderling tore deeper into her skin, rending its way through her nerves and into bone.  She had no energy to stop it and just resigned herself to death.

“Varric, I need  _ you. _ ”

Tears froze to her eyelashes and she became aware of utter cold.  Magic swirled around lazily through the air and she felt a warm presence all around her.

“Hawke, just hang in there,” Varric’s voice came through the Fade and it evaporated into the same room as she had been in before.  She could still feel the throbbing pain from the arrows grounding her in this moment.

_ The demon,  _ she realized.  It had locked her in a memory.  It had felt so real...she could still taste the despair on her lips.

“You haven’t killed me yet,” Hawke said, shivering.  “I thought you liked shooting things.”

Snow fell all around them, freezing her tears to her face.  Had Varric heard her?

“I can’t,” he replied.  “I lost you once.  That’s enough for one story.”

“Your other choice is both of us watching me rip you apart,” she whispered.

“I think she lost interest when I shot you again,” Varric said, gesturing to the new arrow in her leg, but there was no laughter in his voice.  He sounded drained.  “I had to spin a story for the Templar.  He started asking about the magic...I told him you had a fever and had tried to cool yourself off.  I reassured him that I had some magebane and that you would be no further trouble today.  He took that as a sign that he could have a break.  If any other demons show up, I can knock them around without bother...I hope.”

“Should have just told him I was an abomination,” Hawke said, letting her eyes close.  “He would have taken care of this so you didn’t have to.”

“I think it’s taken care of itself,” Varric said.  “Three arrows through various body parts tends to be a bit off putting.”

_ “Then you’d better get used to the sight of blood, Master Tethras, because I’m not going anywhere,”  _ Hawke’s voice came.

Varric made a disgusted noise.

“Hmpf.  Should have known nothing is ever that easy,” he said.

_ “I was hoping you had reconsidered my offer after my small incentive.” _

“No,” he said.  “Either you go, or she dies.  End of story.”

_ “She said she needed you.” _

“And then she asked me to kill her,” he said stubbornly.  “Or did you miss that part?”

_ “Then it is as you wish.  You may kill her now.”   _ The demon stared up at him.

Varric sighed in aggravation.

“You know I’m bluffing, so why are you screwing with me?”

_ “Then the deal is made.  I will allow your friend to go, further unscathed, if you can show me the meaning of all your words.” _

“I’ll do you one better,” Varric said, looking into Hawke’s eyes.  She could tell he was trying to look through the demon, into her, but she was powerless to react to him.  “I’ll show you my five-royal words.  Hunger.  Frenzy.  Rapture.  Thirst.  Yearning.  All the little words that find their way onto the pages of the romances I can never write.  But you have to allow me to bind you.”

_ “You wish to … bind me?” _

“Yes.  Ropes.  Chains.  The typical things you bind someone with.  I’m going to have to pull these arrows back out of my pincushion and that means giving her Lyrium and healing potions to avoid her bleeding to death or dying of shock.  I won’t risk you fighting me again when you’re in top shape.”

Hawke wanted to sigh with relief and laugh with frustration.  He was a tricky blighter...years of keeping himself alive in dealings with the Merchants Guild, maybe.  Either that, or she knew very little of her steadfast friend.

In Kirkwall, the city was full of chains.  Between the still-standing statues of slaves and the massive links in the harbor, one could easily become apathetic to their foreboding.  Hawke had never become accustomed to them, so as he drew a length of it from his pile of gear, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of panic.

_ “Why, Master Tethras...you’re making her nervous.” _

“Tell me something I  _ don’t _ know,” he said without looking at her.

He ran the chain around her arms at the elbow, each link biting into her skin where it touched.  He leaned forward as he wrapped it, almost pressed up against her.  She could feel his breath on her neck as he fastened it with a lock.  His ear still bled from where the desire demon had torn the metal free from it.

_ “Polite conversation, nothing more,”  _ the demon whispered with a growing smile.   _ “I feel how tightly your nerves are stretched, but it is not me you fear.” _

Varric climbed back to his feet and met her eyes.

“Desire comes in many forms.  Hawke and I are friends, which is something you wouldn’t understand.  She trusts me, and I trust her.  It doesn’t mean I want to polish the footstones with her.”

_ “And the images, the lusty language…?  Is that too a lie?” _

“Stop,” Varric said, turning to leave.  “I don’t need you trying to make me feel better.  I need to get potions.  And rope.  A _ lot  _ of rope.”

Across the room, he opened the door a crack and peered outside.  It was a few moments before he caught the attention of someone and they spoke with quick words, too quiet for her to hear.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms and looking the demon up and down.

“Hawke, just remember that I am doing this to help you.  I hope you appreciate it.”  

His voice was low, with so little energy left in it.  Hawke knew she hadn’t been sleeping but she hadn’t appreciated the amount of effort he had expended just to keep her sane.

This wasn’t fair.  She didn’t want to see him hurt if the demon gained the upper hand, and she didn’t want to see him hurt even if it didn’t.  Whoever Bianca is or was, it was clear he loved her, and he would be betraying her memory just to keep Hawke’s broken husk alive.

Alive, when he could barely keep her sane longer than a few hours.

“I want Hawke back,” he said, dropping a coil of rope to the side and crouching in front of her.  His hands were full of potions and poultices.

_ “I believe I am the one in control of this arrangement,”  _ the demon said, voice flat.

Hawke had spent so much time honing her sarcasm that aggression felt strange on her tongue.  She desperately needed this to end; the look on Varric’s face was killing her.

“I’m trying to fulfill your weird, creepy dreams,” Varric replied evenly.  “The least you can do is make it easier for yourself.  I’m going to pull the arrows out and it’s going to hurt, so I want her to be able to punch me if she needs.”

_ “Hawke is no stranger to pain,” _ the demon said with a seductive smile, but she felt the presence lift again as the demon gave up control.

“I don’t want you to do this,” Hawke immediately said, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

Varric smiled, a sad thing that didn’t reach his eyes.  He put his hand on her face before it dropped to the belt on his duster to tug it free.

“Bet you never thought the blight would bring you here, did you?” he asked, dodging the comment.

“Varric…”

He pushed the length of leather between her teeth, silencing further conversation.

“Bite down,” he said gently, continuing to ignore her.  “This is going to hurt...”

He hated her, she realized.  He was doing this because he had to, not because he could live with himself if he did.  She wanted to apologize to him for putting him in this position, but the leather belt was too thick to speak around.

_ I should have stayed in the Fade. _

He fixed one hand around the bolt holding her to the wall.  For a moment, he hesitated, looking almost fully into her eyes, before he looked away again and ripped the arrow free.

Hawke almost blacked out from the agony.  She hadn’t felt much with the arrow staunching the wound but the movement ripped the nerves anew and warmth poured from her shoulder.  Varric put his left hand over it, palm immediately red, even as he dropped the bolt to the ground and produced a healing potion.  He tugged the leather from her mouth with two fingers.

“Here, before you make too big of a mess.  You know how bad I am at baths.”

He held it to her lips but with a resolute look at him she locked her jaw.  It would be easier to die now - to take the burden from him.

“ _ Hawke _ ,” he said, voice insistent.

She shook her head and hoped he would leave it at that.  Her vision was blurring and her head swum.  He made an aggravated noise and let go of her shoulder.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he said, a little bit angry.  He practically pried her mouth open while keeping the vial held in two fingers.  In a careful motion, he poured its contents in before repeating his actions as he had with the magebane.  As she struggled to breathe, stars in her vision, she found she had no choice.  Strength returned in a surge, the wound left by Bianca shrunk to an ugly scar with only a small trickle of blood running from it.

“This story is about a woman who saved Kirkwall,” he continued, hard gaze fixed in her eyes.  He pulled the arrow from her hand without warning and shoved another healing potion down her throat.  His words were short...angry.  “She had a lot of friends...friends that counted on her.  Friends that she helped to better their lives.  And then she came to help the Inquisition with an enemy everyone thought she had killed.  And then she volunteered to stay in the Fade so the elf with the mark on her hand and the last of King Cailan’s line could get free.”  The bolt in her leg came next, and she choked back a cry just in time to receive another mouthful of potion.  “But then she got free, and her friend Varric did his best to put her back together even when she didn’t want him to because he cared, not because he had to.  I know I’m a son-of-a-bitch -- sorry Mother -- for doing this, but I don’t want you meeting your ancestors just yet, so bear with me and I’ll get you out of this.  It’s what I’m good at.”

His voice softened as his rage dissipated and he was a little more gentle with the following two potions and the Lyrium draught.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few breaths.  “I know you hate these.  I know you hate  _ this.   _ But believe me.  I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it was the best in the long run.”

“I want you safe,” Hawke said, resting her head against his shoulder as the magic worked its way through her body.  She could feel new damage from the Fade where the elfroot had repaired her nervous system, so while she felt stronger, another part of her felt shaky.

“Believe me...it would hurt a lot more if you died again.  You can’t imagine how good it will feel to write the letter that starts with: ‘Blondie, I know I told you that she died, but guess what.’ Or a book that involves the seeming death of a character and her triumphant return chapters later.  People eat that up.“

He looked down at his hand and made another annoyed noise.

“This is wrong, but I really don’t know how to make it right.”

“You don’t like to knock boots with someone covered in blood?”

“Nah,” Varric said, going to the basin of water by her cot.  “Too heroic for me.  Covered in smuggled goods, maybe...money, definitely, but not blood.”

“I fail to see how you aren’t the hero in this story,” Hawke said with a small smile.

Varric paused, wavering in front of the basin with his back to her.

“You can come back now,” he said without turning.

 

Instantly, Hawke felt her body lock up as the desire demon rattled the chains and laughed.

_ “Humans have the most intriguing mating rituals.” _

“That wasn’t a mating ritual,” Varric said, turning towards her.  “That was just business.”

He picked the length of rope off the floor and dragged DemonHawke to her feet.

It wrenched her damaged knee but Hawke was powerless to compensate for it.  Briefly, she began to wonder if the demon could even feel the same pain she was - and if it couldn’t - could it feel pleasure or was it simply feeding off a nonphysical desire?  And why did it have to be sex?  Was that what she truly desired...carnal pursuits?

He tugged the covers and pillows from the cot and tossed them on the floor before easing her back down to it.

_ “A curious choice of location,” the demon said with a smirk. _

“This is hard enough without your commentary,” Varric replied.  “I specialize in experience.  Just be patient.”

He wrenched her knee back into socket without warning, causing Hawke to lose all sense of direction for a while.  Her ears rang.

_ “Ah, Master Tethras, you  _ do _ know her desires.” _

“Well, she’d have to be a bit of a masochist to have made it this far,” Varric muttered with a snort.

He pushed her leg up towards her shoulder and wound the rope across her skin.  His mouth turned downward in a frown as as he worked to connect the knots to the chains already in place.  Although Hawke was already unable to move, the bindings still sped her heartrate up.

...this was real. 

He was going through with it instead of killing her.

  
  
  
  


And neither of them were drunk.

  
  
  
  


Hawke had been relying mainly on the covers to maintain decency.  She had the loose tunic that Varric had given her but it stopped just below her smallclothes.  Having both legs bound upwards and away from her body made her feel impossibly vulnerable and powerless.  If the demon had not been in control, she would have closed her eyes as if that would somehow hide her shame.

 

But it looked.  It admired his handiwork with a haunting laugh.

 

_ “That should certainly keep me out of trouble,”  _ it said through her lips.

Varric paused, looking up from his knotwork in surprise.

“You sound like her,” he said, scolding.  “Don’t add insult to injury.”

_ “Then stop fiddling.  You are safe enough, Master Tethras.” _

Varric grabbed Bianca and set it behind him on the bedroll.  If need arose, he could get to it quickly, but she couldn’t.   _ Hopefully it would be enough. _

His face was unreadable as he began to untie the sash from the waist of his tunic even as he shrugged out of the leather duster.  The room had a chill that Hawke could not be sure was wholly the temperature, and the goosebumps visible on his arms as he tugged the tunic off over his head spoke volumes.

The demon purred as he began to untie his breeches, but it was focused on his chest.  The hair visible through his casually unbuttoned tunic had always been a running joke, with references to his missing beard and strange grooming habits.  He was a very clean dwarf, and quite proud of the golden hair blanketing his torso.  Hawke had never exactly been fond of it, but she found his pride in it endearing.  Now?  Now, he seemed slightly ashamed.

 

She had seen him in armor before when he fought at Adamant, but standing before him at four feet and whatever he was, she realized just how powerful the man was.  His shoulders, his arms, his hands, all musculature from wielding Bianca day by day.  The Inquisition had certainly had him busy - even his torso beneath the peach fuzz covering was that of a warrior.

...for a businessman that claimed to pick locks and write stories, he was certainly not physically lacking.

The ring he wore around his neck bounced against his chest as he stepped out of his breeches.

“I, uh, get a little shy around humans,” he said with a small chuckle.  “Not sure it matters that you’re a demon.”

Hawke had never thought much of dwarves.  Frankly, before Varric, she really hadn’t even spoken to one.  As the demon appraised him, she studied his body to commit it to the strange part of her memory that found this … acceptable.  His torso did not taper as it did on most humans and all elves...he maintained the stockiness all the way down to his feet, with legs toned from having to keep up with his longer-legged companions.  They did an awful lot of walking, after all, and staying in shape was just an amusing side effect she’d never appreciated.

_ And Maker’s breath, between those legs… _


	2. Chapter 2

_ “She likes what she sees,”  _ the demon laughed, moving beneath the ropes.

“Thoughts are private on this side of the Veil,” Varric said.  “It adds to the mystery of life.  Besides, the deal is between you and me.  Leave her out of it.”

The demon laughed again.   _ “As you wish, Master Tethras.” _

He knelt before her, frame barely fitting within her legs.  It was clear why humans and dwarves did not often connect: they simply didn’t fit together well.

He leaned forward, close enough to whisper in her ear.  “Did I ever tell you about the first time I tied a woman up like this?”

_ “A story, Master Tethras?” _

He pulled away, mouth twisting in annoyance. “If you’re going to keep interrupting, then I’m going to shoot you on principle.”

_ “No.  By all means, continue with this strange game.  But if it turns out this is a deception…” _

“If you just want a romp, then fine.  I can do that.  In, out, done.  Easy.  But I’m a storyteller.  I don’t do things in half measures....  Desire is like crafting a thaig.  First the supports, and then the flourishes.  We call it foreplay.”

_ “Then play as you will, rogue.” _

He wanted to reply.  Hawke could see the snark at the tip of his tongue, but he shook it off and began again.

“She was one of my coterie spies.  An escapee from Orzammar’s Dust Town.  She was born without arms, if you can believe it.”

He ran his fingers gently through her hair and let them trail down the back of her neck.  Hawke felt goosebumps forming - and the demon purred.

“The coterie loved using her to smuggle.  Guards would see her driving wagons with her feet and actively avoid her.”  He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her jawbone.  His voice was gravelly in her ear.  “The things that woman could do with her feet…”

_ “I fail to see how a story about another female-” _

Varric pulled back on his haunches and stared disapprovingly at the demon.

“This is exactly how I thought it would be with Hawke.  Too busy being uncomfortable to enjoy herself.  Look.  Stories, drinks, light touches...they put women at ease.  I know you are just a spirit looking for a quick fix, but people … need this.  I need this.  You-”  He stopped short as he said it.  “ _Hawke_ needs this.”

_ “And I do not, Master Tethras.  You are stalling.” _

A thundercloud crossed Varric’s face and he moved forward as quickly as his stocky form would allow.  Hawke felt his hands pulling aside her smalls and stroking her heat.

“Is that it, then, demon?  You want a quick fix and then you’re satisfied?  You just want to build up and be let down?  You don’t need me for that.  You’ve got hands.”

_ “But it must be you.  You are what drew me here,”  _ the demon replied with a laugh.   _ “Let me feel your passion, dwarf, not your words.  Let me feel the meaning behind everything she leaves unspoken.  ‘Varric, I -’.” _

He was stuffing his sash into her mouth before the demon could finish the sentence that constantly hung in the air.

“You don’t get to use Hawke’s voice if we do it your way,” he said with an agitated sigh.  “It’s just you and me.”

And he entered her.  

No more words, no more kisses, no more tender touches.  He was thick, spreading her flesh apart as he pressed deep.  Hips touched and withdrew, arms encircled her and held her too close.  He was shaking and his eyes were wet against her shoulders.

_ Don’t cry, Varric.  I never meant for this to happen…I was weak. _

Sure, they’d both made jokes that ended with them hypothetically in the same bed.  Certainly he’d slept at her house on nights he was too drunk to return and she at the Hanged Man when she was too dizzy to cross town.  Once or twice they had woken in the same bed, draped across each other and still holding cards they’d palmed the night prior.  They’d flashed and groped and hugged and lately bathed.  But never ever had Hawke really considered it would lead anywhere.  Not with a lost love waiting to be rescued from her tower.  Not with the woman who had inadvertently aided his brother in his own demise.  Not with the mage who had enabled the mage rebellion.  Not with all her failings and unravelings.

_ I will make it up to you...somehow. _

The rhythm continued and she found her gaze drawn to his eyes.  The demon’s presence had faded to quiet, leaving her wholly in control and still unable to struggle free of the situation.

_ You should never have saved me. _

His amber eyes locked on hers, and she could see the recognition cross his face.

“Hawke…” he said abruptly, pulling the sash free, pulling himself free, grabbing for his tunic.  “I’m...no...I’ll get the Inquisitor.  I should have from the start.  She’ll know how to help.”

He was across the room, hand to the door, before the demon’s words left Hawke’s lips.

_ “I will break her mind before you can even cross the keep.” _

Hawke’s mind was dragged away from sentience and into the Fade’s cruel torments.  All around her lurked leering shadows, mocking her exposed form.  She understood now that this was only a nightmare, but the terror was difficult to push away.

“Don’t let it control you, Varric!” Hawke screamed, looking towards nothing and praying to the Maker that he could hear her words.  “I’m not worth it.”

_ “-but this is what desire feels like.  Desire is wanting, not having.  Desire is every moment before the act, every breath leading to the second your bodies touch.  You’ll never understand it.” _

_ “Then fuck me, Master Tethras.  I will have closure.” _

The shadows faded back to amber eyes, and the demon biting down on his earlobe.  He flinched at every movement she made as he resolutely moved inside her.

“The coterie broke in during a meeting with her one night,” he said in his matter-of-fact voice.

_ “There is no need to distract yourself from me, dwarf.” _

“...so I convinced her to let me bind her before they got to us.  They thought I was trying to get information from her.  She managed to untie herself with her toes before they could beat me bloody.  Still not sure how she managed to stab the one.”

His words were staccato and came between ragged breaths.  Hawke’s own heartbeat was at a canter.  Something alien was building in her body.  Something she had rarely felt and could almost not comprehend… pleasure.  As the demon enjoyed it, so did Hawke.  The Fade flickered in her vision as the demon’s control over her weakened.  She might be able to fight its hold soon...to free herself of possession.

_ Hawke, there’s something I need to tell you. _

In, out, just as he promised.  Flesh against flesh, one hand on her bosom, one in her hair.  They were lost at sea.

_ Sparkler isn’t sure that you’ll wake up, so I might not get another chance to say this.  I -  _

Anders and Vengeance were one, twisting each other to something new.  So had Hawke become one with the spirit that helped her free of the Fade.  It was drawn to Varric, had always been drawn to him, so when he lost her, it sought out the missing piece.  Protected her, freed her.  But she had corrupted it, so it was no longer a spirit of -

“- love -” she whispered, and the dam broke.  

Love.  Devotion.  Need.  Yearning.  All the words they could never feel tumbled free in a landslide as they held each other through the current.  The demon faded.  She felt its hold snap as it realized its purpose once more and retreated into dream.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hawke murmured as Varric’s arms withdrew from her.  “I’m so sorry.”

“What?”  He cut the ropes and unwound the chain with shaking hands.  “Hawke...why?”

She curled into a ball on the blankets as her body was freed and tried to hold back everything she felt.

“Bianca.  I know how much you love her.  I’ll make sure she knows it was my fault...that I controlled you with blood magic.  Or we don’t tell her at all.  Nobody has to know.”

Varric curled up next to her hesitantly.  “Bianca was another life.  She made her choice, and I made mine.”

“You still carry a torch for her,” Hawke replied.  For once, her wit failed her.  She was too spent to deflect.

“I carry a lot of torches,” Varric replied, finally pulling her close.  “Burden of being the slowest.”  She slapped him.  And then she slapped him again.  “Maker’s breath, Hawke.  I thought…”  He released her and looked genuinely confused.

“The first one was for touching my boob on the way to the keep,” she explained tiredly, putting her hands on the reddening mark.  “The second was for kissing me.  I told you I owed you one.”

“For the...Hawke, aren’t you mad about what you just went through?  Hurt?  Don’t you feel anything?”

“Yes,” Hawke said.  “I’m a lot of things, and none of them have to do with that.  I just want…”   _ You, Varric. _  “...things to go back to how they were before.  Chalk this up to a raunchy story of the time you had to save the Champion with your fine dwarven crafts straight from Orzammar.  Or keep it to yourself.  Whatever it takes.  I just want a drink and to play a game of Diamondback.  With you.  Or Dog.  Whoever wants to let me win.”

“Drinks and Diamondback,” Varric said with a heavy sigh.  “I can make that happen, Hawke, if that’s all you want.”

_ Was that all she wanted? _

“And maybe…”

“Anything, Hawke.”

“...another bath?”


End file.
